"Heh. So you're saying my item is a fake?"
Eun-woo looked at Joo Dae-sik's sneering expression, his own lips curling slightly. He felt a pang of pity for the prestigious Myeongbo Antiques, having someone like this in a director's role.
The cup might appear unnaturally pristine, but it was a product of the system. A fake? Impossible.
"Heh, I don't even need to examine it closely. Even a rookie fresh out of university could tell at a glance this is counterfeit. Let me tell you, this is a classic 'myeongmok-pan'—a glaring fake." Joo Dae-sik paused for effect, noticing the growing audience of staff and a few curious customers. He cleared his throat, adopting the air of a seasoned connoisseur.
"You know about late-Joseon blue and white porcelain, right? Aish, never mind, you probably don't even know the different periods of Korean ceramics."
"If I'm not mistaken," he continued, gesturing dramatically at the cup, "this is a poor attempt to replicate a late-Joseon blue and white porcelain stem cup, typically featuring a gukhwa (chrysanthemum) pattern. But here, whether by mistake or ignorance, the chrysanthemum has been replaced with a moran (peony) motif. It's an awkward, nonsensical hybrid."
He leaned back, satisfaction oozing from his pores. "Furthermore, a genuine late-Joseon blue and white Paranggul with a proper chrysanthemum pattern sold at the Seoul Auction House just last year for over 270 million won! For that kind of money, you could buy a brand new Porsche Cayenne!"
"And genuine pieces from that era are incredibly rare—the kind of items we call 'mullo itgo gappi eopneun' (exists but is unobtainable). To put it plainly, even for a prestigious house like Myeongbo, acquiring a verified piece would be considered a major event, a treasure for our collection."
Seeing the nods and impressed murmurs from the onlookers, Joo Dae-sik's chest swelled with pride. This was precisely his aim. It wasn't really about crushing some high school kid—that was beneath his station. It was about showcasing his deep expertise in front of his subordinates and clients, reinforcing his authority.
He finished his speech and looked down at Eun-woo with a patronizing, 'you-have-much-to-learn' expression, only to be met with the boy's open, unabashed disdain.
Eun-woo listened to the pompous lecture, his contempt clear. This guy really loves the sound of his own voice.
But he wasn't about to leave. Let someone make a fool of themselves in front of him and just walk away? At the very least, he had to set the record straight. More importantly, if Joo Dae-sik's 'fake' verdict stuck, selling the cup anywhere in Insadong today would be impossible. The gossip would spread instantly: 'Even Myeongbo rejected it as a replica.'
"What's this? Still not convinced?" Joo Dae-sik said, misreading Eun-woo's silence for stubborn ignorance. "Fine, fine. Ms. Shin, please go and ask Senior Appraiser Kim to come out. Let's let this young man hear it from a real expert so he can accept reality."
His reasons were twofold. First, his own knowledge was superficial, and he was running out of things to say. Second, having the respected appraiser confirm his judgment would be the ultimate victory. Joo Dae-sik was a master of such 'win-win' theatrics; it was how he'd climbed the ladder.
Seeing Eun-woo shake his head with that same infuriating disdain, a spike of anger shot through Joo Dae-sik. This ungrateful brat. Instead of being appropriately awed, he dared to look so dismissive.
"Tsk tsk. Young people these days are so stubborn, refusing to admit a mistake until they've crashed into the wall." He spoke to the room now. "I'm not being harsh on you, kid, but if this thing of yours is genuine, I'll eat my hat right here in front of everyone."
Eun-woo, who had remained quiet, finally spoke, his voice calm and clear.
"No need for the hat, Joo Seonsaeng-nim. I doubt you could digest it. How about a real wager? If my item is genuine, you publicly smash that Porsche Cayenne you're so proud of. If it's fake, I'll smash this cup and eat the pieces myself. What do you say?"
He was tired of the man's constant, veiled insults. Out of respect for his mother's workplace connection, he held back from outright swearing.
"Oho! Listen to this confidence!" Joo Dae-sik's eyes gleamed. This was even better. "Fine, let's make it practical. Eating a car is nonsense. If this cup is real, I'll take a sledgehammer to my Cayenne right on the main street. If it's fake… you come work here for me, unpaid, for one week, starting today."
On the surface, it didn't sound exploitative. To the onlookers, it seemed like a stern elder trying to teach a reckless youth a lesson with a bit of hard work. A week of unpaid intern labor? It might even be educational.
But Eun-woo saw the malice instantly. A week of unpaid work… during the final days before the Suneung? It would sabotage his exams completely.
Trusting the system absolutely, Eun-woo didn't hesitate.
"Deal. All these people are witnesses. I trust a man of Director Joo's status won't go back on his word. After all, reneging would make it rather difficult to show your face around here again, wouldn't it?"
Goaded by the challenge to his pride, Joo Dae-sik thumped his chest. "Agreed! Whoever backs out is a jjang-ddung-i (coward)!"
Just then, Ms. Shin returned, accompanied by a slight, elderly man dressed in a traditional hanbok jacket over modern trousers. He had sharp, discerning eyes that missed nothing.
A ripple of respect went through the crowd. This was Senior Appraiser Kim, a well-known figure in Seoul's antique circles whose judgments carried significant weight.
"Abeonim (Honored elder), my apologies for disturbing you," Joo Dae-sik said, his tone shifting to one of forced deference. "This young man here claims to have a piece of late-Joseon blue and white. Would you be so kind as to take a look?"
The old man's eyes instantly sharpened with interest at the words "late-Joseon blue and white." His gaze swept past Joo Dae-sik and landed on Eun-woo with keen intensity.
"Young man, is this true? Late-Joseon blue and white? Please, let this old eyes see it."
Seeing his eagerness, Eun-woo offered a small smile and moved to hand him the cup.
The old man immediately raised a hand to stop him. "Ah, no, no. Ceramics should never pass hand-to-hand. Please, young man, place it on the table there." He gestured to a sturdy examination table in a nearby lounge area.
"Of course," Eun-woo nodded. He walked over and carefully set the porcelain stem cup on the felt-covered surface.
Appraiser Kim followed quickly. He pulled a pair of pristine white cotton gloves from his pocket and slipped them on with practiced ease. Next came a jeweler's loupe from another pocket. Only then did he lean forward, his entire being focusing on the small cup resting on the table.
[To be continued…]